What Grissom wanted
by FotoBridgeT2
Summary: In my viewGrissom's not the bumbling relationship idiot people make him out to be. He simply makes his choices. But he soon changes his mind. It's about Control and giving it to someone else. What happens when he finally does? GSR of course. Set postGD


_**Of course I don't own…blah blah blah….**_

_**This piece was written to illustrate my disgust with the common misconception that has arisen in the last several seasons that Grissom is a complete idiot in the whole romance arena. Watch earlier episodes—he's not as clueless as people think, nor as bumbling. He just chooses not to be with Sara for his own reasons. Don't believe me? He certainly had no trouble asking Terri Miller out. And don't forget that lab tech in the pilot episode—the one who didn't like Pink Floyd—he obviously got those women to go out with him. They were both women he worked with. I mean, the man is in his late forties/early fifties—he's not that clueless, and did not spend those years as a complete virgin. Maybe there **_**IS **_**another reason for him to not date Sara…and maybe he eventually changes his mind about that reason…..**_

_**Takes place right after Grave Danger.**_

_**ANOTHER thing—I write completely off the cuff without beta'ing. These are not serious writings for me, but rather, are practice, warm ups, free exercises that I do before beginning my serious writings (as in, my own fictional works with my own fictional characters) so please keep this in mind. These are my playing. I do not revise, I do not edit (although I do seriously try to finish longer works if their seems to be enough interest) so all spelling/grammar needs to be overlooked. I truly suffer from phonetic spelling difficulties as I write rather hurriedly (as in 4000 words in two hours) so please just ignore them unless they drastically take away from the story.**_

"You think I don't know what you want?" Grissom said, quietly, intensely, as he stalked around Sara's small apartment. He'd followed her home after a particularly difficult case, determined to speak to her about once again losing her cool with a suspect.

This discussion wasn't what he'd intended.

She stood there, six feet away from him, watching with apprehension as her normally placid supervisor paced back and forth. "No, it's you who don't know what you want and I don't think you _care _what I want."

"Not care? Why does everyone insist I don't care about people?" He turned toward her again, stepping ever closer. Invading her space.

"Because you don't. You just go through every night with the same M.O. When things get confusing you spout off some damned quote. Life is more than someone else's words. Last month with Nicky in that damned box was the closest I've ever seen you come to actually showing how you feel about something, about someone. Mystery gets old sometimes." Sara didn't know where this was coming from, but she was tired of him jerking her around. _Flirt, ignore, lecture, touch, ignore._ Over and over. "Nobody's given the opportunity to actually _know _you. And frankly, Grissom, I'm tired of trying."

"You want to know what I'm thinking?" He stepped closer, until only a foot separated them. "You sure you want to know what I _feel _about you?"

"No. Actually, I don't. It doesn't matter. I'm through playing this little game. I decided that when watching Nick in that coffin. I'm not going to waste another minute of my life on lost causes. Yes I have feelings for you. I know it, you know it. Hell, the whole lab knows it. But _you _choose to do nothing about it. I respect that choice. But you've got to let me be, now. Yes, I miss our being friends. But I can't trust you not to jack with my feelings. But that's the way it goes, friendships fade with time. I get that and I'll admit I did miss you for a while. But I'm done. So quit screwing with me!" Sara's voice rose and she tried to step back from him as he got even closer.

"_Screw with you? _I've not even begun to 'screw' with you." His hands closed around her wrists. She took another step back only to feel the edge of the coffee table against her knees.

"Grissom?" Sara's voice reflected her hesitancy at his aggression. He never acted this way and it frightened her a little. She tried to free herself from his grasp. No luck, while not hurting her, his grasp was relentless. He was so close she could smell the scent that was so uniquely his. She quickly sidestepped the coffee table and he followed, stepping determinedly, a dance in which she didn't know the choreography. She was so used to making all the moves in this routine. She didn't like this. This wasn't Grissom. Grissom flirted, then backed away—that's what she knew, that's what was safe. This was beginning to scare her.

What had she done to trigger this?

She'd been so angry when she'd left the lab. She hadn't noticed him following her and had been surprised when he'd caught up to her in the stairwell of her building.

"Sara?" he'd called.

She spun around at his voice, taking in the sight of him a few steps below her, eye level with her chest. She watched his eyes dart to the slight shadow of her cleavage and pause there for a moment.

For some reason it had pissed her off. He obviously liked to look at her. She caught him doing it frequently, especially since the night she'd fought with Catherine and told off Ecklie. If he liked looking so much, why was he such a damned coward about touching? "What the hell do you want, Grissom? I'm tired, I'm hungry and I'm bitchy. I didn't do anything to endanger the case or myself. I am a grown woman. I'm not going to get drunk or do anything self-destructive. I'm going to eat and then sleep. And I don't need a lecture from my supervisor, ok?"

"How about a friend? I know this case bugged you…" He started but she cut him off.

"Has it occurred to you that I don't need a friend? I can't trust you anymore." Sara continued up the stairs and stopped at her door. Grissom was right behind her.

"Honey?" His voice was so puzzled that it lit Sara's hair on fire.

"Don't you dare _honey _me! I'm not your honey; I'm not your anything. That's your choice." She unlocked the door and stormed inside, knowing he'd probably follow. She really didn't want him in her apartment but she wanted a scene in front of the neighbors even less. "You've made that perfectly clear. So why do you keep doing this to me?"

"Doing what?"

Could he really be that clueless? "First you flirt, then you back away. Enough already. Stop. I'm trying to get over it and I'm doing a damn fine job at it! But you—make up your damned mind. Quit looking at me like you want to touch me, quit standing so damned close. It's confusing. I'm tired of being confused, Grissom. I just want to live my life, come to work, do my job and go home. I'm tired of it being such a huge battle. Can you not understand that?"

"Oh, yes. I understand that. Every day, Sara. It's every damned day. Do you think it's easy for me to do this?" He stood in the middle of her apartment and turned back to face her. 

"That's just it—do what? You never do anything." She'd thrown her bag down on the counter, marched into the living room, knowing he was behind her. "I don't think you care about what I want."

That had brought them to this, to him stalking her around her own home.

"What?" He whispered the words, close to her ear.

"What are you doing? Let me go." She was past the couch now, could feel the kitchen island against her back, his warmth against her front. Her skin tightened, her senses jump started. He still held her wrists but she'd stopped twisting her hands, trying to escape. "Grissom…"

"Don't you know what it does to me when you say my name like that?" His breath was hot against her ear and she shivered. He smiled, feeling her body shudder. "I can't think when you say it, you know that? Me, a scientist, and I stop thinking just hearing you say my name. You think I don't know what that means?"

"Gr—" her voice trailed off, the enormity of his words sinking in, deciding not to tempt fate by using his name if he felt that strongly about it. "Everyone calls you that. Not just me."

"Yes, they do. But it's you I see in my mind, you I hear saying my name when we're all alone. Only you're not just saying my name, you're screaming it, Sara. The intensity of that fantasy is more than you can imagine." He lowered his hands to the counter, pinning her arms to the Formica. It was cool against her skin, a contrast to the fire that was his hands as his fingers encircled her, thumbs rubbing small circles over the soft flesh of her inner wrists. "And when you're close to me—all I can think of is this; I hear your words, _pin me down. _Did you know that's something I had fantasized about long before that case? Of course, you didn't know. You'd have ran clear back to San Francisco if you'd known."

"What? You're starting to scare me." She whispered, leaning back slightly, trying to see his face. She was arched neatly over the counter; she was tall enough and the counter more than low enough that it wasn't as awkward as it could have been. He followed with his own body, resting himself between her legs, hands still pinning her down. He smiled wickedly, hearing the moan she couldn't suppress.

"Do you see why I've not done anything before now? The intensity of my fantasies alone, are too much for you. I know that, I've always known that. I'm not good for you, Sara. I could hurt you." He ran his lips over her neck, inhaling the vanilla and raspberry scent that he associated only with her. "I don't ever want to hurt you. That's the last thing I ever want to do."

"So you're afraid?" Sara tried to pull away and when that didn't work she bucked her hips, trying to dislodge him. That was an even worse mistake as she felt his body against hers fully. They both moaned and blue eyes met brown. "It's not me you're afraid will get hurt, you ass—it's you! You're a freaking coward!"

"Dammit Sara! With you, I could be like all of them, hurting you!"

"All of whom?" She tried once more to free her arms, lifted one leg and squirmed, trying to get out from under him—anything to get herself out of this undeniably vulnerable position.

One of the things she'd always loved about Grissom was that he never made her feel threatened, in any way. But this was an entirely different Grissom than the one she was familiar with—and she didn't know if she liked it.

"All of them, guys who have to dominate, to have to _control _the women in their lives. To take away their choices. _I will not be like that." _He growled the words into her hair, smelling the lemon she'd used in her shower at the lab. "_I've seen what guys like that are capable of. I will not do that to you."_

"You wouldn't hurt me." Sara told him, stopping her movements as the meaning of what he said sank in. "You wouldn't be like that. _You're not like that. _How can you think you are, that you would?"

"Wouldn't I? Look at us now, Sara. I've you pinned beneath me; I could still so easily hurt you. If I lost control, what would happen then?" He released her left hand, ran his right one down her side, clamping on her hip. His fingers were strong and sunk into the muscle. "What if I hurt you? You'd hate me then."

"Is this why you kept pushing me away?" With one hand free Sara pushed against his chest. She felt the beating of his heart against her fingers and paused for a moment. "Why you kept pulling back? Be honest. You owe me that much."

"_Yes." _He hissed the words bitterly. "_Only you, _I've not felt this with any other woman. I refuse to do that to you."

"_You refuse? _It's always what you want isn't it? Did you even give a thought to what I might need? No. You just chickened out and grasped the first excuse you could and ran with it. You let fear dictate the last five years of your life—my life!" Sara began pushing against his chest in earnest, but he refused to budge.

Being this close to her, to having one fantasy become reality was all it took. He'd caved and he knew it. Consequences be damned. He couldn't go back to the way he was. "_Is this what you want, honey? _Do you want me to pin you down like this? To back you against a wall, maybe? Take what I want? Can _you _handle it if, when, it gets too much?"

"How the hell should I know? You've not given me the chance, the choice. You just decided what was best and that was final. You are a bastard, _Grissom!_ You have to control everything around you, don't you? It's not some crazy fear of hurting me that bugs you! I'm a grown woman, I've been hurt before, you know. And I've had rough sex before too—and liked it! You're just afraid to loose control, to not be able to control _me!" _ She added this last bit triumphantly, watching as his eyes narrowed, anger flaring in the blue depths as she mentioned rough sex. She lay there, not fighting him, letting her body go limp, causing his to rest against her in the slack. His weight ground her into the counter's ledge but she didn't care.

"I don't want to control you! And it's not just about sex." 

"Afraid of losing control, then? Well, try this on for size, bugman—sex is all about control!" She watched as his eyes narrowed even further, he nudged one knee forward even more, widening her legs and resting against her thighs. His hand on her hip tightened, almost bruising. "Yes that's right! Control—losing it, and giving it to your partner. It's about control and trust—two things you apparently can't relinquish! It's no wonder _you're _alone—you can't do it, can you? It's too much for the cowardly bugman to do! So what the hell do you want from me now?"

"_Everything!" _He grasped her chin in his fingers, pulled her face toward his and lowered his mouth to hers, no hesitancy, just determination.

She resisted, tried to twist away, angry.

He leaned forward even more, dropping both hands to her hips, pulling her lower body even closer into his. She was now lying almost flush on the counter, him leaning over her.

She decided not to fight anymore and wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands rose again, one to bury in the dark curls now spread over her counter and draping the edge of the sink, the other to brace himself against the counter. His tongue slipped between her lips, methodically tasting her for the first time. They both moaned again, swallowing the other's breath with the sound. Her hands snaked around his back, one tangling into the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck. He reached behind himself and captured her hand and once more pinned it to the counter, this time beside her head, making her even more vulnerable as the fabric of her shirt stretched tight across her chest.

He pulled back a moment to breathe and check her reaction, "Sara…"

She tightened her legs around his hips, used her free hand to pull him back down, meeting his lips with hers by choice this time. He pulled her hand down, pinning it in the same manner by her head as the other. He was fully on the counter now, as was she. She was completely pinned beneath him, unable to move—but now she didn't care. She welcomed the feel of his body over hers. She felt so exposed to him, completely in his control—and she liked it.

He liked it, too. Liked it so much that he almost didn't hear the knock on the door when it sounded. He lifted his head, disoriented for a moment. He looked at the woman lying beneath him, lips swollen and brown eyes dazed. She was trembling so badly, he could feel the vibrations of her body through his clothing. His chest tightened proudly, reveling in the fact that he could bring her to that point.

"Sara—the door." He quickly climbed off her counter, pulling her up as he did so. Her legs dangled against the cabinet for a moment before she slowly let her body slide down. She ran her hand through her hair, breathed deeply.

"Just a moment!" She called to whoever was outside her door.

Grissom stepped back, giving her space, watching as she struggled to control her breathing. She stared at him with weary eyes, and he stared back, determined that this time, the retreating was over. He was not backing off from her again. Not now. "You'd better answer the door, honey."

She nodded, and stepped toward the door, opening it slowly. "Warrick? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, girl. I just wanted to check on you. Knew that case was a hard one—" Warrick stepped into the foyer, eyes taking in the shaking she couldn't control. "Sara, you ok?"

"She's fine, Rick." Grissom said, drawing the younger man's attention. Warrick ran his eyes over his supervisor, who stood in the midst of Sara's small kitchen, half blocked by the counter. The older man's face was flushed, his hair mussed, and his shirt wrinkled. His lips were reddened and swollen and Warrick's gaze flew back to Sara, taking in her own wrinkled clothing and swollen lips. It was when his eyes dropped to her wrists that his brows rose. Grissom followed his gaze and saw what the investigator had seen. Both wrists were reddened, evidence of a strong grasp.

Instead of being appalled, Grissom felt immeasurable pride at the marks. He'd branded her, marked her as his, and he wasn't going to let that go, wasn't going to pass that up again.

"You two ok here?" Warrick asked, suspicion evident on his face as he looked at the man he considered mentor and friend. "Sara?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Everything's fine, Rick. Can I get you anything to drink?" She ran a trembling hand through her hair, bit her lower lip. She'd yet to look at Grissom since she'd opened the door.

"No. I can't stay, I just wanted to stop in and say _hey_. I'm headin' over to the airport to pick up Nick. Why don't I give you a call later, ok?" He ran a friendly hand down Sara's arm, squeezed lightly. He sent a warning look toward Grissom, and Grissom nodded, understanding the man's message. He knew he'd probably get a call from Warrick later as well.

He bid the younger man farewell and waited as Sara closed the door. He approached her, standing in front of her, effectively trapping her between himself and the wood of the door. "Honey? About what happened…"

"Dammit, Griss, don't you dare apologize. That was both of us—not just me and not just you!"

"I wasn't going to apologize. But did I hurt you?" He took one of her hands in his, turned it over so he could see the underside of her wrist, where a small bruise was already beginning to form. He lightly ran his fingers over it, feeling the bumps once more rise over her skin. It thrilled him that he had such an obvious effect on her. He hoped it wasn't just a physical response to stimulus. That's all sex really was, at least in his past experience. He couldn't help but know that with her it would be something entirely different.

"I won't break, you know." Sara told him, looking in his eyes. "You should know that by now."

"I know a lot about bugs, Sara. Not about people."

"I've noticed." She pulled her wrist back as she leaned against the door, putting some much needed space between them. "So now what? Are you going to leave and then pretend this never happened when we get to work tonight? That is part of your M.O."

"No. I'm not going to do that. I'm done with that. Regardless of what you think—I'm not a coward. And I'm not the complete relationship moron that Catherine and lab gossip makes me out to be. I'm just cautious. I don't want to hurt you, in any way. You're the last person I'd ever want to hurt."

"I know that. You don't have to tell me that. If I thought you'd ever hurt me like that I never would have came to Vegas and I damned sure wouldn't have stuck around for more than five years. In fact the only way you have hurt me was by ignoring me. You were my best friend for almost ten years before I ever stepped foot in Nevada. I hated when that changed."

"I'm sorry." He leaned in, rubbed her lips with his, a gentle contrast to his earlier kiss. "Maybe I can make up for that somehow?"

"I don't know." She answered truthfully. Yes he said one thing while in her apartment, but what about when they did return to work? Would he be this Grissom or Cold, aloof, Supervisor Grissom? "I don't know that I can trust you anymore—at least outside of work."

"Will you let me try?" His hands went around her waist, pulling her closer. She resisted, unsure if she wanted him to touch her anymore. At least not until they got things settled once and for all.

"I don't know."

"Sara, please." He leaned his forehead against hers, and then leaned her against the door, one hand on her waist the other cupping her thigh. "Just give me another chance, honey." 

"I won't lie, I'm afraid." She felt him tighten at her words and she quickly recalled the train of their earlier conversation. "Not physically. Never that. In fact—I liked what, uh, happened earlier. But you've ran hot and cold before. And I'm the one whose been made to suffer. I'm not going to let you toy with me like that anymore. Can you understand that?"

"Yes." He tangled a hand in her hair, closing his eyes, taking in the feel of her body pressed against his before straightening and stepping back from her. It was the hardest thing he ever did. "Some time to think?"

"Yeah. I think that's a good idea, don't you?" She looked at him full on and he was struck by the vulnerability evident on her face. She was pale, her lips still swollen red, her eyes wide, and her whole body still trembling. Her face was framed by the tangled mess that was her hair. She'd never looked more beautiful to him.

"If that's what you need. My mind's not going to change. If you're sure you can handle giving me everything, then I'm more than willing to give this a try." He placed yet another kiss on her lips, encouraged when she didn't pull away.

"I'm not afraid of you, Grissom. I'm not. But that doesn't mean that I trust you." Sara whispered. "Not after all that's happened."

"I know. And that's my biggest regret. When I saw Nick in that coffin I became aware of everything that I valued. Everything. You topped that list by a large margin. I want you to know that, I promised myself that I'd let you know that." He spoke the words softly into her ear, idly noticing how delicate the shell was.

"So that's why you've been so different in the last few weeks?" Sara's voice grew stronger as she regained control of herself. Not even in her wildest fantasies had Grissom acted in quite the way he had tonight. She didn't know what to think about it all.

"Yes." He rubbed circles on her back, just above her waist, comforting instead of arousing. "I've been trying to find the words, trying to figure out if it _was _too late. Or if I still had a chance. Hell, honey, maybe I _am _a coward when it comes to you."

"You are." She smiled at him, and he realized it was the first to cross her lips since he'd called her name in the hallway earlier. "I've always known that. But that doesn't mean I didn't get pissed at you for it."

"We do have a knack for angering each other, don't we?" His own smile was rueful as he pulled her closer, hugging her before releasing her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward her couch, surprised at how easily she had let him control her, guide her around her home. He nudged her down on the couch, followed her down onto it. Sitting close enough to hold her hand and nothing more. His earlier passions had cooled completely, leaving the scientist once again in charge.

"It's a gift."

"Hmm. Coping mechanism." He paused a moment, looked at his watch. "I should let you get some sleep, get something to eat."

She nodded but tightened her fingers around his own. He couldn't think of anything to say that hadn't already been said so he sat quietly, holding her hand, and leaning back into her couch. Without conscious thought he pulled her against his chest, once again surprised at how easily she acquiesced to his guidance.

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed softly, the events of the night as well as the past hour catching up with her. It wasn't long before her eyes closed and she drifted to sleep.

Grissom sat there for well over an hour, holding her against him as his mind replayed all that had happened since he'd walked through her door. _Did he regret it_, he asked himself. The answer was a resounding _no. _Having her underneath him was exactly what he'd wanted for years and now that he'd experienced it, he'd do whatever he had to just to experience it again.

He loved her—he'd known it for a while. So why not go for it? Hell, she was right—Gil Grissom was the biggest kind of coward. But at least he'd made the attempt, now. And if she'd let him, maybe he'd be able to something more.

He moved to lay her down on the couch, stood awkwardly beside her, and brushed the hair off her cheek. He leaned down to kiss her and nearly jumped when her eyes opened.

"Honey?"

"Stay…" she asked, blinking up at him. "Please?"

"If you want," He whispered as he pulled her to stand. "I can take the couch, and we can talk some more when we wake up."

She shook her head silently, instead pulling him down the hallway. This time it was her leading him and he didn't object.

They entered the first room down the hallway and he found himself surrounded by her scent. She removed her shoes, socks, and jeans then crawled onto the mattress with its covers still twisted, attesting that she was a restless sleeper. He hesitated, watching as her head hit the pillow nearest the far wall and her eyes began to close. He almost doubted she was even aware of what was happening. But he wasn't going to pass this chance up either. He quickly and quietly shucked his outer clothes, and crawled in beside her clothed only in boxers and t-shirt. He was the one trembling this time. Sleeping beside Sara was another one of his fantasies. She snuggled into the pillow and hummed softly, nearly out completely.

He decided to take one more risk and snaked an arm around her, pulling her against his chest as he straightened the blankets over both of them. "Goodnight, honey."

"Good night." She mumbled, drifting off.

Hey lay there thinking, mind replaying everything that had happened since the night he'd seen Nick in that Plexiglas coffin and imagined Sara lying there instead. But now she was beside him, he was holding her close and warm, and he was determined that it would be like that for as long as she'd let him. If that was forever, then so be it. Gil Grissom finally knew what he wanted.

And he'd taken the first step to getting it.


End file.
